Don't Let The Bed Bugs Bite
by TheKoganKid
Summary: Itching is a real turn-off for Greg. Based on the first episode of season two, Burked. Greg/Nick!


Hai there :D This is just a little one shot, originally posted in a story called Second Time Around, which I deleted because it was going nowhere. So enjoy, and please, CORRECT ME if I butchered something. I've only just started watching the show from scratch and I might mess this up, both because I've just started over and because this is my first CSI fic. Enjoy!

"Hey, you want some coffee?"

"Nah, too juiced up as it is. We've gotta go back in tonight, anyways; I need some sleep."

"Right..."

Nick sighed both tiredly and stressfully as he rubbed a hand over his face and sat down on his creaky couch. He and Greg had just returned home from the graveyard shift at the CSI building, and both were quite tired even though they hadn't been worked excessfully hard. But even though it was nearing dawn in Las Vegas, Nick couldn't find himself to be tired enough to go to bed; Greg didn't look exactly drowsy, either, and the fact that he wanted more coffee somewhat concerned Nick. But it was Greg- what could he do?

"I'm not ready for bed." Greg mirrored his thoughts as he plopped down on the couch next to Nick, scrubbing his eyes with his index knuckles.

"Don't jump on the couch, G. You'll break it."

"You sound like my mother." Greg snickered. "And you must weigh more than me with those bricks on your arms."

Nick jerked away slightly as Greg began to poke his biceps, and grinned, pushing his fingers away.

"I work out."

"I know." Greg replied, resting his head comfortably on Nick's shoulder. "I've seen you in those shorts you wear when you go to the gym. Mmhm. I've complintated joining your gym just to check you out when you're jogging, but decided against it because I despise work-outs almost as much as I despise people jacking my coffee."

"Don't use Grissom's water." Nick suggested helpfully.

"Don't be stupid! I'm not bringing an entire gallon of water from here to pour in a pot to make my coffee. Grissom will probably just make up another excuse as to why everyone's allowed to drink my Blue Haiwiaan, anyways."

Nick laughed. "He'll probably say, 'Because I'm Gil Grissom.'"

"Exactly!"

The couple chuckled for a moment together, before decending into a comfortable silence. Nick was halfway ingrossed in whatever sitcom splaying across their TV, but Greg couldn't seem to make himself focas on the show and try to calm his system down. Instead, he stared almost wonderstruckedly at Nick's honestly muscular upper-arm, and traced the bulge in his flesh lightly with his finger. His boyfriend's skin was a mellow warm temperature to the touch, and the blonde man found himself wanting to just melt into him.

Turning his head so that his chin rested against Nick's collerbone, Greg pressed closer to Nick, the other man oblivious to his closeness. Greg just grinned at the other's vastness and pressed a soft, sultry kiss to the exposed skin of the other's neck.

He felt Nick shudder, his mouth opening slightly, and the sensation caused Greg to grin childishly.

"You know why you're also not like my mom?"

"Hm?"

Greg picked his head off of Nick's shoulder and in turn the Texan turned to look over at his boyfriend, already dark eyes seeming to smother in the blackness of his pupils.

Greg grinned widely. "You're dead sexy."

A light blush spread over Nick's face as he smiled back. "That kind of sounds like an insult to your mom."

"Well, I don't want to make out with my mother, Nick. That's the biggest difference."

"That's good," Nick nodded approvingly, tugging Greg closer by the loops in his jeans. "because that would be weird."

"I'm kind of a weird guy."

"You're my Werido Greggo."

"And you're my-"

"I know what rhymes with Nicky, Greg," Nick scolded his boyfriend, who was trying his damnest to look innocent. "Don't even go there."

The other just shrugged, before leaning forwards to kiss Nick sweetly, their ludacris name-game forgotten as they held eachother closely. Greg was practically laying on top of Nick as he was pulled forwards, Nick stretching out on their worn champange colored couch and circling his arms around Greg's thin hips to hold him in place. Greg didn't mind, of course, because in the position that he was he hardly had the thought in mind to breathe, much less be concered about whether or not he was really crushing his boyfriend's internal organs with his full weight.

Just as the two were starting to deepen their kissing session, Nick began to feel a dull burning sensation rousing in his leg. It didn't concern him, though, and he moved it on the notion that he believed it may have just been his foot falling asleep. But even as he stretched his leg out to it's full length and shifted his body, the burning didn't go away; if anything, it began to intensify, and Nick's thoughts were beginning to be intruded of the task at hand concerning a certain DNA Analysis expert.

But the thought of pushing Greg away from him to scratch his leg made his entire body whine in protest, so Nick tried to push the nagging of the itch away, and just kissed Greg harder to try and distract himself. That idea worked for all of about ten seconds, until the burn had become almost unbarable and Nick was practically eating Greg's mouth with his own.

With a loud cry of frustration, Nick gently shoved Greg back onto the couch and sat up, yanking up his jean's leg hurriedly. Nails grating against the skin on his leg, Nick imagined that he must look like a dog itching fruitlessly at a pack of fleas that were chewing up his skin.

Greg looked rather suprised that he had been pushed away by Nick, the loss of lips against his own making him feel cold, before he managed to snap out of his state and look down at Nick's hand. It was almost a blur, due to it's itching speed, and his eyebrow shot up quizzically.

"Nick?"

The CSI looked up at him, hand momentarily ceasing in action, and the look on Nick's face would be one that a person would use if he had just been sleep-walking and awoke to find himself in the middle of the street, staring down a cat. It was as though Nick had forgotten he was there all together.

"What's wrong?" Greg asked him slowly.

Nick blinked at him, before looking down at his hand and the patch of skin it was covering; there were around four bumps sprouted on his skin, all an angry redish color, and Greg faintly thought that they were rather detastful.

"I-I don't even know, Greg." Nick looked back up at him, confusion in his dark eyes. "My leg just started itching..."

Greg made a face that was a combination of "Gee, really?" and "Ew, what the hell are those?"- both looks seen often by Nick.

"Are they misquito bites? Or maybe tick or flea bites from the dogs?"

"I don't think so..." Nick shook his head, and he began to itch the bumps some more. "But whatever they are, they itch like hell."

With a sigh, Greg got to his feet and planted a kiss on Nick's forehead. "I'll go get the Calamine."

Nick smiled greatfully at him, and laughed as he watched Greg disappear around the corner of their apartment, the blonde muttering on about how itching was such a turn-off.

The first thing that came to Greg's mind when walking through his door was that the apartment stunk. There was a putrid acidic scent hanging in the hallway of his and Nick's home, over-powering the usual linen and cinnimon smell that inhabited it, and he wrinkled his nose against the smell.

"Nick?" he called out, setting his jacket down on the side table.

"In here!" Nick answered back, his voice ringing out from the bathroom.

Setting off down the hallway, Greg noted with displeasure that the awful smell only became stronger and worse the closer he got to the bathroom, and it got to the point where his lungs burned with the harm against normal oxygen intake.

"Jesus Christ, what is that awful smell in-"

Coming to a stand still in the doorway of the bathroom, Greg's question died away as quickly as it had formed, and he watched in shock as he took in something he'd never expected to see.

Nick Stokes holding a bottle of nail polish, wand out and poistion down by his feet.

"Here..." Greg finished lamely.

"Er," Nick stuttered out, his eyes shifting between his exposed leg and Greg's startled face. "This isn't what it looks like..."

"I didn't see this coming." Greg said finally.

Now it was Nick's turn to be confused. "What?"

Greg sighed over-dramatically, running a hand through his spikey hair. "I mean, usually when people think about you and me, they assume I'm the more campy one. I have gelled hair that I frequently change up, I wear shirts that out-do Skittles for the rainbow, and I have a higher voice than you." He smirked, eyebrows raised. "Apparently they don't think about what happens behind closed door. You may have turned out to be more gay than me."

Nick's questionable look dropped into one of unamusement, and he just rolled his smokey eyes at Greg, turning back to his leg.

"Oh, shut up, Greg. I'm just doing what Grissom said and closing up these damned bites with some nail polish."

"The clerk at the drugstore must have had quite a laugh when she rang up some nial polish for a thirty five year old man."

"It's Cath's, you idiot." Nick then paused again, and looked up with a accusational look in his eyes. "And how'd you guess I'd buy it from the drugstore around the corner?"

"They had a nail polish sale on the sign outside." Greg said smoothly.

Nick just shook his head lightly, and sighed. "So, you never get home after I do. Grissom ride you for something else?"

"Nah," Greg scratched his forehad. "Ecklie had me run something for the day shift. He's doing a case on a girl that had been found completely frozen in a store's back freezer, and he wanted me to test some blood found on the light switch and compare it to the suspect."

"Hate that guy." Nick muttered automatically.

"Too bad he held me back, though. I missed the opportunity to suggest a brighter color for you."

"Go away, Greg."

Greg laughed and pushed himself off of the doorway, sauntering up to his boyfriend only a few feet from him. Nick's arms apart and the potential of him dropping the nail polish non-existant, Greg perched himself right in his lap and snaked his arms around his neck, relaxing against the other man.

"I'm just teasing you, Nick."

Nick smiled and leaned forwards slightly, leg forgotten. "I know."

They kissed briefly, before Greg pulled back again, his reporter face back on.

"Is that nail polish really taking the itch away, Nick?"

Nick thought for a moment, probing for any sign of an itch, and smiled when he felt that it had died down some.

"It sure is."

"Good," Greg breathed out in relief. "Because I've dying to kiss you all day, and I don't want your leg to get in the way of it this time."

"Oh, my poor neglected leg." Nick fake pouted.

"Your leg? What about my poor neglected mouth?" Greg was back in his needy state again, and he reminded Nick of a child. "It's been cold and useless for nearly sixteen hours."

"I'm sure you managed to keep it moving somehow." Nick pointed out. "A lot of blah blah blah for Grissom, and then some."

"You're mean, Nick."

"Well, maybe if you'd quit distracting me and let me finish with this damned nail polish, I could put the horrid stuff away and make it up to you."

"Then finish, Niiiickkk."

"Jesus." Nick half chuckled, have huffed, and leaned forwards over Greg's lap to see his leg. Dipping the wand back into the nail polish, he swirled it around before pulling it out again, applying a small coat to the final bump on his leg. Greg, meanwhile, attempted not to be a freak and tried with every fiber of his being to ignore the fact that Nick's face was incredibly close to his groin; because there was nothing more embarrassing than getting an erection and poking someone in the face with it.

"Done." Nick placed a searing kiss on Greg's thigh as he re-capped the nail polish, screwing it shut and breathing out a gust of air right into his boyfriend's lap. Seeming to not notice the fact that Greg shivered violently, Nick sat up again and put the nail polish on the counter. "May I never have to use that shit again, because it reeks."

"You're such a tease, Nick." Greg groaned, burying his face in Nick's neck. "I hate you."

"Well, the itching's gone, so now we can kiss without having to worry about me turning you off with my scratching."

And suddenly Greg was on his feet and pulling Nick up with him, hands still locked behind his neck and eyes dancing.

"I love you, Nicky."

"You're only saying that because you want to have sex with me."

"Damn right I do!" Greg yelled over his shoulder as he danced out of the bathroom, practically bouncing down to their bedroom.

Nick shook his head and laughed to himself, thanking whoever the hell was listening to him that he'd chosen to work in Las Vegas instead of New York.

"Love you too, Greggo."


End file.
